


glossy

by astroturfwars



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Face-Sitting, Rule 63, general obscenity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astroturfwars/pseuds/astroturfwars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can see you thinking," Kuroo says. "If you say yes, that's fine. If you say no, that's fine too. Don’t worry about it."</p><p>"I said yes--I mean, I want to, but...I don't really know how this works."</p><p>"Well, we'll figure it out. So--" Kuroo gives her a horizontal little <i>that's-that</i> shrug, like there's nothing to it, "--just sit on my face, and let me take care of the rest."</p>
            </blockquote>





	glossy

"D'you wanna try it now?"

Daichi takes a deep breath. She looks down at Kuroo, who lies beneath her, sharp hipbones poking into Daichi’s thighs, and says, careful, "Yeah, but it's fine if we don't. I don't want to hurt you."

Kuroo rolls her eyes. "You won't. I wouldn't have agreed if I didn't think it'd be fun."

Yeah, the idea had sounded fun, to be sure; Daichi'd liked the sound of it when she'd read about it in one of those cheap supermarket magazines while she'd been waiting in line to checkout the other day, and she'd sort of been thinking about it ever since, even though she'd waited a few days to bring it up with Kuroo. She wants to try it-- _god_ , how she wants it--but butterflies have taken up an untimely residence in her stomach, and she can't quite quell the nervousness bubbling up beneath her skin.

"I can _see_ you thinking," Kuroo says. "If you say yes, that's fine. If you say no, that's fine too. Don’t worry about it."

"I said yes--I mean, I want to, but...I don't really know how this works."

"Well, we'll figure it out. So--" Kuroo gives her a horizontal little _that's-that_ shrug, like there's nothing to it, "--just sit on my face, and let me take care of the rest."

Daichi’s healthy pink flush turns cherry-red within seconds; she goes hot all the way to the tips of her ears, to the tops of her cheeks, to the pit of her stomach. "Don’t just say it like that!"

"Y'know, you could make me stop talking if you'd just--mmph."

Kuroo goes almost cross-eyed looking down at the hand clamped firmly over her mouth. She’s still for a short moment--and then she sticks her tongue out and drags it across Daichi’s palm. 

"That’s gross," Daichi says, and rubs the spit into Kuroo’s cheek. 

Kuroo grimaces, but doesn't put up much of a fight; she just looks up at Daichi like she's waiting. And she is, Daichi knows she is, because Kuroo’s always been patient with this sort of thing. 

"We don't have to," Kuroo says again. Her voice is soft, nearly gentle, but she goes teasing within seconds. "We could try out my birthday present instead."

Daichi considers slapping her hand over Kuroo’s mouth again, because if she hears one more thing about that pretty purple goddamn three-speed vibrator she's going to box it up and send it back. 

("It’s _your_ present," Daichi keeps saying, "so you should be the one to use it first."

"It’s _my_ present," Kuroo keeps saying, "and I’d rather use it on you first."

The vibrator sits untouched on their bedside table. It’s the principle of the thing, really.)

"Do you _really_ want to talk about that right now?" Daichi asks, edging on exasperated. 

"No, just reminding you of it." Kuroo grins, reaches up, hooks her fingers in the collar of Daichi’s t-shirt. Daichi leans forward in an attempt to keep Kuroo from stretching the fabric--and keeps leaning, further and further still, until she's bracing herself on the ground with her elbows on either side of Kuroo’s head. 

Kuroo’s smile is always lovely, but in quarters this close it's lethal. She traces the shallow curve of it with her tongue and Daichi can't help but follow suit: she dips her head, sucks away what's left of Kuroo’s cheap cherry chapstick, bites at Kuroo’s bottom lip until she gives up an eager little noise and opens her mouth. 

Kissing like this is good, familiar--comforting, in a way-- because Daichi _knows_ how to do this. She knows Kuroo’s mouth, knows the taste and pliancy of it, knows the kissing habits Kuroo likes to pretend she doesn't have. She knows the throaty noises Kuroo makes when she's enjoying herself, knows well how to coax them from Kuroo’s throat: by kissing her the way she is now, all slick friction and shallow breath, by sucking on Kuroo’s tongue until she earns a low moan and a hand in her hair.

The fingers in Daichi’s hair curl and tug just hard enough to pull Daichi up an inch or two. Kuroo, flushed and panting, kisses the corner of Daichi’s mouth, nips at her bottom lip before settling back against the floor to look at Daichi across what little distance there is between them. Once she's gotten her breath back, she says, pleased, "How's that for a warm-up?"

Daichi rolls her eyes and sits up. From her vantage point she can see Kuroo splayed out beneath her, grinning, the rise and fall of her chest visible through the thin fabric of her threadbare tank. She looks altogether too pleased with herself, and Daichi wants badly to change that. 

To that end, Daichi bites the inside of her lip, steels her spine, and says, in the most casual tone she can achieve: "It was fine."

Kuroo rolls her eyes right back--that's an understatement, and they both know it--but chooses not to protest. She crooks her finger in a way that makes Daichi want to shudder and says, "Come here, then."

Daichi manages not to squirm, though it's a near thing; instead she takes a deep breath and crawls forward on hands and knees until Kuroo’s head is framed between her thighs like a particularly pretty and incredibly inappropriate portrait. And, okay, Daichi’s a little more nervous than she'd thought she'd be; but her pulse is ticking steadily higher and a familiar heat is building in the pit of her stomach, and she finds herself eager as she lines herself up with the satisfied curve of Kuroo’s smile. 

"Oh," Kuroo says, almost conversational, "so you were excited about this, huh?"

"Shut up," Daichi says. Her voice is a little high, a little breathy, and she knows Kuroo can hear it because she gets that look in her eyes--the one that says _I’ve got you where I want you_ \--right before she presses her mouth to Daichi through the fabric of her panties. 

Kuroo’s mouth is insistent and clever, and she licks at Daichi until the fabric goes damp, until every pass of her tongue earns her a quiver, until the almost-there pressure of her lips makes Daichi give up a half-reluctant, half-impatient _please_. She lets up for a moment then (though that's exactly the opposite of what Daichi wants) and chuckles, breath puffing warm against Daichi’s skin. Tone teasing as can be, she says, "Please, what?"

"Don’t--" Daichi begins, shooting for sharp and hitting shaky, "don't screw around, you know what I mean--"

"Well," Kuroo cuts in, "I can't do all that much, y'know, so--" she wiggles her fingers where they're pressed into the tops of Daichi’s thighs, aims a pointed look a little lower "--help me out, maybe?"

It takes a moment, but Daichi’s brain catches up to what Kuroo means. Her heartbeat jumps like she's just been shocked--but she draws a deep breath, steels her nerves, and tugs her panties to the side before self-consciousness can make her hesitate any further. 

Kuroo, to her credit, keeps eye contact until Daichi clears her throat and nods once, firm. Her gaze drops then and she just-- _looks_ at Daichi, lashes low, lips parted, like there's nothing terribly thrilling about this sort of easy intimacy at all. Daichi’s cheeks go hot under the scrutiny. 

"Quit staring," Daichi mutters, making a point not to squirm. "It’s rude, you know."

"Whatever." Kuroo looks away, gaze focused somewhere across the room; she sounds almost abashed when she says, "you look good."

Daichi doesn't get to see it nearly as often as she'd like, but she's reminded now that Kuroo is lovely when she blushes: the particular shade of pink that stains the height of her cheekbones is a little like a late August sunset, and her lashes, when she plays at demure, sweep against her skin like thin, artful strokes of dark paint.

Daichi smiles, says, "So do you," and watches Kuroo’s flush darken.

"So straight-forward," Kuroo mumbles, looking rather like she's trying to hide her face against Daichi’s thigh. "Jeez. You ever heard of subtlety?"

"No need to be subtle about facts," Daichi teases, grinning as she reaches down to thread her fingers through Kuroo’s hair. She pushes back her bangs, sweeps her thumb across Kuroo’s temple, swallows down some too-sweet compliment that would undoubtedly earn her a good five minutes of teasing. 

Kuroo murmurs something Daichi doesn't quite catch--it sounds, in the aftermath, a _little like that'll be helpful_ \--but before Daichi can ask her to clarify, Kuroo leans up, lips parted, and presses her mouth to Daichi’s bare skin. 

The scope of Daichi’s world narrows down to their bedroom, to the stretch of carpet on which she and Kuroo lay, and then further still: to the grip of Kuroo’s fingers on her thighs, to the warmth of Kuroo’s mouth, to the way she maps Daichi out with the tip of her tongue before pressing the flat of it against her. Her eyelids flutter low, slip shut, and Daichi wants to do the same--but she can't take her eyes off the hint of movement high in Kuroo’s jaw, the slight hollow of her cheeks as she closes her lips over Daichi’s clit and sucks. 

A low moan breaks the seal of Daichi’s lips and Kuroo takes that as the encouragement it is; she does it again and again and again until Daichi’s gasping, hips quivering, fingers clenching in tangled locks of Kuroo’s hair. She’s not quite sure what to do with herself like this, with no sheets to clutch at, no bed to arch up off of, nothing to brace against; so she focuses on what's familiar--on Kuroo--and pauses.

There’s something about seeing Kuroo laid out like this--face bordered by the soft lines of Daichi’s thighs, hair caught up between Daichi’s fingers and brow barely furrowed--that makes Daichi go so hot she nearly breaks a sweat; especially when Kuroo pulls back for a moment to roll her neck, presumably to ward off some impending stiffness. Her lips are slick, probably as sweet as they look, and the slow sweep of her tongue when she licks at them draws a poorly muffled whine from Daichi’s throat. 

Kuroo catches the end of it, looks up just in time to see Daichi dig her teeth into her lip to keep herself quiet; she blinks Daichi into focus and gives her a glossy smile that makes Daichi’s thighs go weak. "You doing okay?"

"Yes," Daichi says, much too quick, though she's sure the way her hips twitch every time Kuroo’s breath hits her is answer enough. She loosens her grip on Kuroo’s hair, runs her fingers through it, tries not to marvel too openly and blurts out anyway, "You're so--you're so _good_ \--"

Kuroo huffs out a little laugh that makes Daichi shiver and says, grinning, "Tell me that again _after_ I make you come."

Usually Daichi would object to that sort of blatant smugness, but right now she can't quite put together two coherent words to argue otherwise. She's close--so close she can feel it with every beat of her pulse, so close she might fall apart with it--so she stows her protest and lets her head fall back, lets go of her last tenuous bit of restraint in favor of chasing after the friction she so badly needs. She grinds down and Kuroo hums her approval, tightening her grip on Daichi’s thighs; and then--like she can't make Daichi dizzy with her mouth alone--Kuroo meets Daichi’s gaze with her hazy own and winks.

And, _oh_ , Daichi’s going to say something about that, because there's no way Kuroo should think that move was any sort of sexy (there's no way it should have _been_ any sort of sexy, either, but Daichi is regrettably weak where Kuroo’s concerned). But she'll bring it up later, much later, because Kuroo does something wickedly clever with her tongue that nearly makes Daichi see stars. 

Sensation swells and surges and spills over, and Daichi comes with Kuroo’s name on her lips.

She’s still riding that high when Kuroo uses what little leverage she has to push Daichi off just before her thighs give out. Daichi rolls onto her back--though it's more of a boneless sprawl than anything--too blissed out to be conscious of the way her legs spread; though she ends up being grateful for it, actually, because Kuroo takes the opportunity to crawl between Daichi’s legs and kiss her way up her chest, skimming over the generous curve of Daichi’s breasts with still-wet lips.

"Okay," Kuroo says, dropping another kiss just below Daichi’s collarbone as she works her hand between Daichi’s thighs to stroke her slow, fingers moving in lazy circles that make Daichi’s toes curl. "How 'bout you tell me again what you were saying earlier?"

"You’re good," Daichi breathes, trying not to smile. 

"Mm, I recall you saying a little more than that… _how_ good am I, exactly?"

Kuroo’s grinning down at her, eyes bright, and Daichi knows a challenge when she sees one. 

She rolls Kuroo over onto her back, matches her smirk inch for sly inch. " _Very_ good," Daichi says, lowering her voice to a strategic purr that makes Kuroo’s eyes go a touch wider, "but I’m gonna make you say I’m better."

"Oh?" Kuroo raises an eyebrow in mock skepticism, though she's eager and obliging when she wraps her legs around Daichi’s waist. "Is that a promise?"

"Yes," Daichi says, smiling, and leans down to kiss Kuroo quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> where's the shrug emoji when i need it


End file.
